


Scars

by demiclar



Series: Destcember 2020 [25]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Casimir trying to be a comforting not-yet-boyfriend, Drifter being vulnerable, Drifter is afraid of commitment and we all know it, M/M, They're getting there, just a snippet of a story I'll never finish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28334214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demiclar/pseuds/demiclar
Summary: Drifter carries more scars than most. Casimir can help heal them, one by one.
Relationships: The Drifter/Male Guardian (Destiny)
Series: Destcember 2020 [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037118
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Short one today because its Christmas and I'm tired. Enjoy.

Casimir had never realized how scarred Drifter was. He’d also never realized how little of Drifter he’d really seen until now. It wasn’t that Drifter was self-conscious, it was simply that everything they’d done in the past had simply involved Drifter with most of his clothes on, or situations in low light, in which Casimir was usually too hurried to explore. Now however, it was different.

They were aboard the Derelict, Casimir having come by after a long day, having run the last few Gambit matches of the evening, he’d simply returned to the ship instead of the Tower. They’d both been tired, and had eventually found themselves in Drifter’s shipping container room, atop his makeshift bed. Casimir was seated on Drifter’s lap, straddling his hips while Drifter sat with his back to the wall, bare from the waist up.

Casimir felt his breath slip out of him as Drifter straightened, having been setting his clothes aside, blocking Casimir’s view of his torso as he’d bent over himself. Now, however, there was nothing blocking his gaze, and he watched Drifter’s chin dip just a little, a hint of color finding his cheeks.

“When you’ve been alive as long as I have, you start to collect some things.” He explained almost sheepishly, and Casimir nudged his chin back up quickly, before setting his hands down on Drifter’s chest.

His whole torso was marred with scars, slicing through his pectorals, disrupting the hair on his chest, marring his abdomen and the muscles tense there. Casimir dragged his hands lower, and Drifter shifted under his touch. He might almost call it squirming, but Drifter was fighting to hold onto more dignity than that. His eyes cut up to the other man’s, assessing.   
  


“I can stop if you’d rather.” He told him quietly. Drifter shook his head quickly, just a little jerk of a movement.

“Nah.” He said, nearly sounding as nonchalant as usual, his tone just strained. “It’s alright. Your hands are cold.”

Casimir lifted his hands from Drifter’s chest to rub them together. Everything was cold aboard the Derelict. Replacing his hands, he slid down Drifter’s lap to bed over, pressing soft kisses to the scars of Drifter’s abdomen, close to the little strip of hair running up from below his waistband. This, he knew well. Still, Drifter tensed.

“You sure it’s alright?” Casimir asked when he didn’t relax, and Drifter drew in a deep breath, shrugging as he closed his eyes for a moment.

“I dunno.” He said at last, looking defeated. “Guess I haven’t done anything like this in a while. Guess I have a hard time believing you’re not just in this for the sex.”

Casimir’s eyes dropped a little. At first, he might have been, but Drifter had helped him heal, had helped him recover from all the trauma he’d been carrying around with him since the Red War. He couldn’t say he’d let it all go yet, but he’d certainly learned to leave some of it behind. He also knew enough to kick it to the curb in times like these if he wanted to enjoy himself. He gave Drifter a little smile.

“As great as sex with you is,” Casimir told Drifter, holding Drifter’s hips in his hands and rubbing his thumbs over the bones just below his skin, “I think this goes deeper than that. Don’t you?”

Drifter nodded, just a little, and Casimir didn’t push it. Drifter had lived a long time, had been hurt before, Casimir had seen it, the Nine had shown him. Commitment was hard for him, Casimir knew that. Hell, it probably would’ve been easier for Drifter if it _was_ just about the sex, but Casimir knew there was more to it than that. More to them than that.

“Drifter…” He breathed after a long moment, sitting back to look over the other man. “It doesn’t matter to me if you’re not beautiful. You don’t have to be beautiful, with perfect skin and a clean, simple past.” Drifter’s chin dropped a little. Casimir bent to kiss his jaw.

“But for the record,” He continued, “I like your scars.”


End file.
